


Hi, Tiberius

by FlitShadowflame



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen, implied assault, nero is a serial killer/rapist so some discussion of that but only a little onscreen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 17:39:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11362365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlitShadowflame/pseuds/FlitShadowflame
Summary: Written for a kink meme prompt:"Punk!Kirk. AU, Undercover, whatever.All I want is Kirk in eyeliner, leather strap cuffs, sleeveless shirts, leather pants and Starfleet-issued boots and maybe streaked dyed hair. Making him into a rentboy? Optional.Make this into Spock/Kirk? I will love you. But anything else is fine."





	Hi, Tiberius

He'd gotten highlights before, on a dare. Hell, he'd worn makeup before on a dare, and once or twice just for fun. Leather pants were a clubbing staple. But the look of the whole outfit...

Jim winked at himself in the mirror. Yes, he looked imminently fuckable. He also looked like he was up for hire, which, to be frank, was the goal.

Vice was exactly where he always wanted to end up. Some twist of fate had him on the right side of the badge for once, but he'd jumped at the chance to go undercover. Detective James Tiberius Kirk loved to live dangerously.

His partner, Detective Spock, watched him expressionlessly, as usual. They had been partners for almost a year and Kirk had seen him show emotion twice, both times anger after a suspect insulted his mother. Jim had, both times, made a mental note not to piss of Spock, and especially to never, ever call Spock's mother anything other than the nicest, smartest lady that ever lived.

"If you have finished flirting with your own reflection, perhaps you should review the assignment," Spock said neutrally.

Jim sighed and flipped through the folder. But he _liked_ flirting with his own reflection! Blah, blah, dress like a rent boy (check!), wear the ear-stud microphone (check and ow!), go to x street, entrap perverts, shake your thang. He snapped it shut.

"Let's roll," he grinned. This serial killer, Nero something, liked killing young toyboys. So the SFPD had flooded the streets with baby-faced cops in hooker getup in the hope of luring Nero out. Jim was the youngest detective in the squad, but a few officers had been pulled from other sections and taught how to act.

Spock, the second-youngest detective, had refused to go undercover, saying that he was not confident in his ability to act appropriately to his role. Jim had to agree; possibly the only person less believable as a hookerboy than Spock would be Captain Pike...a finely aged man like that might patronize such individuals, but he was too...cultured to ever be one.

Well, maybe when he was younger. Jim giggled at that thought.

Jim took up his street corner with no small amount of enthusiasm. The first takers weren't Nero, not even close - he hit later in the night, after scoping where possible victims were and choosing. But Jim had to keep up appearances, right? So a few blowjobs and handjobs later (he shrugged off even ridiculously high offers for his ass with a sheepish explanation about a patron getting rough), he was sitting pretty still and it was almost midnight.

Then he had a suspect. Stocky build, shaved head, facial tattoos, and torn ear. They'd only had one fatally injured boy live long enough to give them even that much. The fact that the kid had reminded everyone of Chekov, a brand-new rookie on patrol with the biggest fucking eyes in the world, was just icing on the cake. SFPD were gonna catch this fucker, dammit.

"What's your name, beautiful?" Tat-boy asked in a conciliatory way.

"Tiberius," Jim gave his middle name with a little smile.

"Hi Tiberius...I'm Nero." Bingo. Honestly, Jim couldn't believe the guy introduced himself like that. And then the punch came out of nowhere, and Jim's vision went black.

Jim woke up in a hospital. Funny, he didn't remember going to visit Bones.

"Good, you're up," Bones said. "I'm not even going to start on how monumentally stupid you were to take that assignment. I'm also not going to discuss what a fucking nut-job your partner is, or how you are now the proud host of five STIs. Because really, that pales in comparison to the fact that a known serial rapist and murderer introduced himself to you _by name_ and you just stood there and let him knock you unconscious."

"Nice to see you, too, Bones," Jim scowled. "What's the damage?"

"A goose egg on your thick skull, a few bruises from what the police tell me was a rough-and-tumble ride in the trunk of that crazy bastard's car, a few scrapes and lacerations, but he didn't even get your pants off. I know, because they were fucking impossible for _me_ to get off of you and firstly I can't imagine why he would redress you, and secondly I found no evidence of tearing, penetration, or anything of that nature. So, whatever virtue you have left is, presumably, safe. He did cut up your chest a little, though, sadistic fuck."

Jim managed a smile.

"Oh, and next time you see your partner, remind him he's supposed to cuff suspects, not bend them into new and unusual shapes after beating them to a pulp."

Jim blinked. "Spock did what?"

"From what the lovely Officer Uhura tells me, he stood over her, positively glowering, until she had a location on you. Then, he took a police vehicle, and managed to outpace even the plainclothes cops in the car following Nero's. He stormed whatever nasty-ass warehouse Nero had dragged you to all by himself, beat the crap out of the guy, and drove you to a hospital with his lights running. If I didn't know better, I'd say the cold-blooded bastard was concerned or something."

Well. It seemed Spock did have more emotions than "angry."


End file.
